<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Place You Are Meant To Be by stepOnMeZenos</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094702">The Place You Are Meant To Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos'>stepOnMeZenos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Animals, Curses, Depressed Zenos yae Galvus, Fox Zenos yae Galvus, M/M, Pre-Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light, Sorceror Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 (Final Fantasy XIV), Zenos yae Galvus Needs a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:40:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As perhaps the final attempt at finding a cure for his ailment, Zenos seeks out a witch rumoured to be able to solve all problems. Said solution does not, however, take the form he expected.</p><p>ZenoHika Week Winter 2021, prompt: Animal AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Place You Are Meant To Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There was going to be a different fic here. Unfortunately it wasn't very good, so you get this one instead. It's a lot better.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The few seconds in which it happened stretched into an eternity in Zenos' mind. </p><p>Having listened to his explanation as to why he had come to her shack in the woods, the old woman rumoured to have the ability to solve any and all ailments nodded slowly, rose from her rickety chair and walked over to a wardrobe with unsteady, ailing steps. Then, with more agility than he had thought her capable of, she tossed something at him. He caught it in the air; it was a piece of fur, soft against his skin. </p><p>Before he could ask what this was all about, his limbs—his very bones—shifted. It did not hurt; strange though the elongation and shortening of his body parts felt, it was painless.</p><p>Seven seconds later, ere he could even begin to feel worried, his face—his new, strange-feeling face—was at level with the old woman's knees.</p><p>“Run along now,“ the woman said. “Run along, little fox. The place where you arrive at shall be the place where you are meant to be.“</p><p>Run? Run where? What place? </p><p>“What are you waiting for? You are unburdened now, free to go wherever you please.“ </p><p>She tried to nudge him with her foot.</p><p>He ran. </p><p>Out of the shack and into the woods, past tangled trees and thorny hedges, across an ice-cold stream and over dark patches of moss. New as his body was to him now, it felt familiar, as if it was the one he had lived in all his life. </p><p>By the time he came to a halt, he no longer knew where he was, nor how long he had spent running.  The trees were sparse here, the forest slowly giving way to a meadow filled with tall grasses and wildflowers, lit by the first light of the dawn. </p><p>Exhaustion crept through his limbs as he laid down among the roots of a towering tree, curling his long bushy tail around himself. It surprised even himself that he felt so little concern over this, but perhaps it was part of the curse the old woman had placed on him; for what else could it possibly be? A curse, placed upon him after he'd tried one of the few options he had not yet exhausted…</p><p>What to do now? The old woman had been right, he could go wherever he wished now, but what did that matter? He had nowhere he wanted to be. That was why he had knocked on her door in the first place. And now he could not even distract himself from the pointless tedium of life, as the animal that he had become. </p><p>It was the hunger that drove him away from the forest and into the field, in the end. There would be mice in there, probably. He was a fox now. Why not feed like one as well? There was a slight silver lining in his situation; he no longer had to abide by the ridiculous ruleset surrounding high society dining…</p><p>However, though he could move naturally in this body, he did not quite know how to use it to hunt like a fox. The few times he spotted a mouse scurrying through the grass, it vanished before he could lay his paws on it. </p><p>On he went, through the tall grass, until it abruptly ended and he stumbled out into the open. The hunger gnawing at him had become unbearable, as if the meadow had stretched on far longer than it really had. There was a house in this clearing, larger than the witch's shack, and almost seemed to be made out of a strange gleaming metal—or was something wrong with his eyes? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was a hunger-fueled delusion. </p><p>Part of him wanted to lie down then and there, uncaring of what happened to him, but the tiniest hint of curiosity won out against the impulse. He approached the house. The sun reflected off the surface in surreal colours, bathing the entire scene in a bizarre light. What was this? He'd never seen anything like it. </p><p>And then the door opened. He hadn't even seen it, having been distracted by the house's strange appearance. Out stepped a man, short and slim of stature, his head adorned with horns. Whatever else there might have been to note about his appearance went unseen over that. </p><p>“You shouldn't be here,“ the man said, crouching down to face Zenos. “The wards should have kept you out… which means you aren't an ordinary fox, hm?“ </p><p>Zenos didn't respond. Ordinary or not, he <i>was</i> a fox now, and foxes didn't speak. Conversations bored him, anyroad. </p><p>“Hmm...“ The man gazed at him. “Is it that you can't speak, or that you don't want to? You do look like an ordinary fox, but your aura… are you a spirit taken form? No, that doesn't fit either.“ He stroked his chin, then shrugged. “You want to come inside, foxling? Maybe once I figure out what you are, I can help you with whatever you came here to do.“</p><p>Whyever not? It was as bad as any other place, after all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“So,“ the horned man said. “What shall I do with you now? You either can't or won't speak, and I'd rather not resort to more invasive methods without your permission.“</p><p>They were seated inside the strange house, which looked no less abnormal inside; though the gleaming metal only coated the outside, mysterious artifacts all but littered the inside. Zenos had no idea what their purpose might be. Not that it really mattered to him.</p><p>He'd allowed the horned man to lift him up to the table after he had shuffled some of the objects on it away to various other surfaces. The man had then sat down at the selfsame table, facing him. What an odd seating arrangement for a conversation. Zenos had occasionally sat on tables simply to break with Garlemald's ridiculous sense of etiquette, but something about this was… different.</p><p>Probably the fact that he was a small furry animal.</p><p>“Will you communicate at all with me? Wag your tail if yes.“</p><p>Zenos debated on ignoring him. What reason did he have to want to talk to this person? On the other hand, he had precious little else to do in this state. According to the old woman, this place he had arrived at was where he was meant to be. Time to put that to the test, though she seemed to be little more than a malicious old witch, in hindsight.</p><p>So he wagged his tail once.</p><p>The horned man smiled. “Excellent. I assume you are unable to speak, then. Wag once if yes.“ </p><p>What an exceedingly strange way to communicate, but at least this man accepted the no easily, even if it was delivered in such an unorthodox way.</p><p>“Is that so? I see, I see.“ The man nodded. “I assume you have been cursed, then. Yes? Then I will offer my home to you until I found a way to reverse the curse.“</p><p>The words should have excited Zenos. He did not, after all, have any desire to live out the rest of his life as a mangy fox. Even so, what would he do afterwards? He had not come one step closer to finding some manner of purpose for his life. Did it really matter if this sorceror, if that was what he was, found a solution or not? Instead of answering, he curled in on himself and stared at the table. </p><p>“No? Something else, then...“ The sorceror leaned back in his chair. “I'll figure it out sooner or later.  My name is Sorkhatu. Would you like to find a way for you to tell me yours?“</p><p>Zenos didn't move. Names were meaningless even under normal circumstances. What need did a fox have for one?</p><p>“I see. Then as your host I claim the right to name you for the duration of your stay here. Rest assured I have no plans on making it permanent.“ Sorkhatu fell silent for a moment. “You shall be Volpes until such a time as we both decide the name no longer serves you.“ </p><p>Volpes. As good a name as any, Zenos decided. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Life in the sorceror's house was exceedingly strange. Shadows flitted in and out of the corners of Zenos' eye, until Sorkhatu shooed them away and apologised for 'them' growing too bold. Zenos could have asked; they'd devised a rudimentary form of communication and Sorkhatu surely would have figured out what he wanted to know sooner or later. He did not, however, care enough to. </p><p>As for Sorkhatu's part, he had thrown himself into his research, digging through tomes and staring at cryptic devices until they told him things Zenos could not perceive. Despite his unceasing enthusiasm, he seemed extraordinarily concerned with never doing anything Zenos did not agree to.</p><p><i>'Question'</i>, Zenos signalled one day, after Sorkhatu had finished explaining some magical experiment or another he wished to conduct to get at the truth of the matter. Though Zenos had told him about the old witch, Sorkhatu had not seemed to know who she was or what manner of magic she had employed, and thus had needed to start from scratch in unravelling the mystery.</p><p>“What is it?“</p><p>Zenos tapped his left paw on the chair he sat on, which signalled 'why' after initiating a question. Gesture by gesture, he phrased his question—an infuriatingly slow process, but he had not had the motivation to search for anything better. </p><p>“Why do I ask?“ Sorkhatu repeated. “Ask what?“</p><p>How was he supposed to signal 'permission'? He waggled his tail in a way that neither indicated yes nor no. In response, Sorkhatu reached out and pulled a wooden board out from under some books stacked up on a drawer near him. </p><p>“I know you said you didn't want to find a different style of communicating,“ he said, “but if I'm right and what you're signalling now is frustration, maybe this will help.“ He placed the board on the table in front of Zenos. Letters were printed on it in an arch, representing the entire alphabet. </p><p>With anyone else, the question of why he had something like that lying around would have arisen; Sorkhatu, however, possessed far stranger things than this. Zenos sat down on the board and tapped the letters one by one. </p><p>“Why do I ask permission? Why would I not? You came to me for help, not to be waylaid with further spells.“ </p><p>It wasn't exactly true. Zenos hadn't come for help nor anything else; he had only stumbled across the house by accident. He had not bothered to disabuse Sorkhatu of the notion, though. If he was already here, he could just as well take advantage of the fact that he had run into someone who could perhaps aid him.</p><p>“Now I do understand why you would be surprised by that,“ Sorkhatu continued. “You indicated before that you have little experience with sorcerors and witches, and your previously encountered old woman plainly doesn't follow that simplest of rules. I do, however, and furthermore, there would be consequences to harming one whose request for aid I have accepted.“</p><p>Zenos almost didn't ask. The quiet and dismal part of him said that such proclamations were fundamentally meaningless, as Sorkhatu could just as easily abandon his conviction and do to him as he pleased. What was Zenos to do about that—bite his ankles? </p><p>A different part of him he could not quite identify felt a glimmer of curiosity at those consequences. It was a word Sorkhatu used often, in ways that seemed nonsensical. And so he spelled out the word mixed with the gesture for 'question'.</p><p>“What consequences? I swore certain oaths throughout the course of my practice. If I break them, the oathkeeper in question will want a word with me, or worse.“ Sorkhatu shrugged. “It is what keeps most people away from the art of sorcery. I assume your old witch pursued a path that required nothing of the sort.“ </p><p>That seemed more like a burden than anything else, but it wasn't Zenos' business. With a mix of signalling and letter-tapping, he indicated his approval of the process Sorkhatu had outlined (which, as he had said, was virtually risk-free anyroad so what was even the point of asking). Maybe it would get them a step further to restoring his original form.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The fireplace only seemed to be aglow with flames. Closer inspection revealed that tiny spectres scurried across the logs, slowly assimilating their substance into their own bodies. Sorkhatu had called it more efficient when Zenos had asked. Either way, they did their job in turning the living room cozy and warm, so it was all the same to him.</p><p>Sorkhatu settled down on the sofa next to Zenos with a steaming mug in one hand and a plate of raw meat in the other. They'd agreed that it would be best for Zenos to feed like a fox would, as his body seemed to be that of an ordinary animal in all aspects. It didn't bother him much; on the contrary, he could appreciate not having to sit through long royal dinners. Simpy scarfing down some meat was much preferable. </p><p>It did beg the question of where Sorkhatu procured it from, given that he never seemed to leave the house, but Zenos had the distinct impression that it might be better not to ask that. </p><p>As he gobbled up his dinner, Sorkhatu said, “I'm glad you came here, you know.“</p><p><i>'Why?'</i> Zenos signed. </p><p>“I don't get a lot of visitors.“ Sorkhatu shooed away a creeping shadow looming over his shoulder. “It's nice to have company.“ </p><p>Even if said company was a man cursed to live as a fox? Zenos couldn't imagine anything more dull than watching his animal body contort in an effort to deliver clumsily phrased messages. <i>'Why?'</i> he asked again.</p><p>“Why not?“</p><p><i>'I can't even talk.'</i> Much less do anything else. Frankly, he was leeching off of Sorkhatu without contributing. </p><p>“And how exactly did you just tell me that, if not by talking?“ Sorkhatu took the empty plate and placed it on the ground, as the table next to the sofa was covered in books. “I assure you, I've interacted with beings who were a great deal harder to communicate with than you.“ </p><p>That, Zenos was willing to believe instantly. </p><p>“Besides, I enjoy the puzzle you brought to my doorstep. It has been a while since I had to work this hard to break a curse. That old witch of yours knows what she's doing in that regard. Not that I'm happy about your plight,“ Sorkhatu added quickly. “I'd rather you were never cursed at all.“</p><p>Silence settled on the living room after that, aside from the not-quite-crackle of the not-quite-fire. Zenos curled up on a pillow next to Sorkhatu and closed his eyes. One of the upsides of this situation was that Sorkhatu let him do as he pleased, and if that entailed taking a nap by the fireplace because he had nothing better to do, then so be it. No nagging, and no pointless duties foisted on him… It didn't help the boredom, but at least now he wasn't required to paper over it anymore.</p><p>If that was what Sorkhatu considered adequate company, then all the better. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>'Do you help people with matters other than curses as well?'</i>
</p><p>Sorkhatu looked up from the board and at Zenos. “Once in a blue moon, when someone actually asks me to. Normally they only come when they've exhausted all other avenues and are desperate enough.“ The ingredients he had been grinding to dust lay discarded to the side, as he could not pay attention to that and what Zenos was spelling out at the same time. </p><p>If that didn't sound familiar. After the court physicians had all failed at finding out what was wrong with him, there had been little recourse but to resort to such unconventional methods if he did not wish to live his live under the suffocating shroud of the emptiness he felt. It had been a mistake, in the end, leaving him worse off than he had been.</p><p>“Are you asking because of what you originally went to the witch for? Assuming, of course, she did not simply curse you for the fun of it.“ </p><p><i>'I merely felt curious,'</i> Zenos spelled out. Then he mentally scolded himself. What reason did he have to be reticent about his issues? It couldn't exactly get any worse, and Sorkhatu had made no attempt at harming him in the month and a half he had lived in this house. <i>'But in truth, yes. I had wondered if you would be more willing to aid me.'</i></p><p>“If it is within my power,“ Sorkhatu said. “I've been tempted to ask what made you seek her out, actually. Knowing what caused her to do this to you might well be the final piece of the puzzle I need.“ </p><p>And so Zenos told him, labouriously spelled out letter by letter. Of the crushing sense of emptiness that had accompanied his every action for as long as he could think. Of the recurring feeling that it was all pointless. And though he hesitated beforehand, he even told him of the fleeting thoughts that he should perhaps depart from this life and see if the next one turned out better.</p><p> It was difficult to gauge how long anything took in this house as the light played odd tricks on the senses, but it would have tried the patience of most people to keep reading along such an inefficient mode of communication. It would have tried his own; Sorkhatu, on the other hand, gave off absolutely no signs of annoyance or impatience. </p><p>What an odd man this horned sorceror was. </p><p>“Well,“ Sorkhatu said. “I can't say this is what I expected. The bad news is that I have no magical cures for it, or I should say, anything I attempt to do would have dire side effects on you such as inviting sinister creatures from beyond to take root in your head.“</p><p>It had been been too much to expect a solution from him. The old woman had failed squarely, and she had been renowned for such things. Why would a sorceror working with demons or somesuch fare any better? Zenos tapped his paw on the first letter of his response, but Sorkhatu kept talking.</p><p>“Fortunately, I do have some mundane ideas. May I?“ He extended a hand.</p><p>Zenos flicked his tail to indicate yes. Sorkhatu had touched him plenty of time throughout his examinations. How would this be any diffe—</p><p>Instead of nudging him into the right spot or position, or taking fur samples to use in this ritual or that, Sorkhatu wrapped his arm around his tiny body and pulled him close. Zenos' first instinct was to free himself, forcefully if needed, but before he could sink his teeth into Sorkhatu's arm, delicate fingers began combing through his bushy fur, and that… that did not feel so bad. </p><p>“I'll let go if you want me to,“ Sorkhatu said. “But you sounded like you could use a hug or ten, and that seemed as good a place to start as any.“ </p><p>Maybe it was the body; it had to be, for what else could cause such reactions in him? Zenos had never particularly craved being touched. His brief flings at court had brought him nothing but dissatisfaction, and he had concluded that such contact was not something he needed. Now, however, he felt himself relax—muscles going slack under Sorkhatu's touch—and without thinking much about it, he curled up in the crook of his arm and closed his eyes.</p><p>“I take it you have no objections. How long has it been since someone last gave you a hug?“</p><p>Zenos flicked his tail. <i>'I don't know.'</i> Didn't care either, or so he had thought. </p><p>“Then I suppose I have to make up for that. It will hardly fix all your issues, but perhaps it will make you feel a bit better until we find something permanent...“</p><p>It did, somehow. What a puzzling turn of events. It seemed that Sorkhatu was not the only one who had a mystery to unravel… but that could wait. For the time being, Zenos decided it was more important to stay where he was and allow Sorkhatu to pet him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And then one day, Sorkhatu undid the curse. </p><p>He had been pessimistic about this attempt, warning Zenos that there was no guarantee it would work. Thus, Zenos had hardly expected any results when he had stepped into the circle drawn on the floor and watched Sorkhatu perform a number of seemingly arbitrary and nonsensical actions. It wasn't anything new. Little about Sorkhatu's sorcery made  sense to him. His attention drifted away, and the world lurched around him and when he regained his bearings, he saw a hand covering up part of the lines on the floor. A hand. Not a paw. </p><p>How strange, to feel strange about regaining his own body. </p><p>He splayed his hand, feeling how the fingers stretched out, then balled it into a fist. Fingernails digging into his skin… </p><p>“How do you feel? Is everything alright?“ Sorkhatu knelt down in the circle next to him. “How many fingers am I holding up?“</p><p>“Four,“ Zenos said. His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him. He had not thought the fox body would become so ingrained in him in such a short period of time. </p><p>Sorkhatu breathed a sigh of relief. “I'm glad… I thought something went wrong when I saw you stare at your own hand as if you've never seen it before.“</p><p>“I'm fine.“ Zenos looked up from his fist and sat up. “Tis passing strange to be back.“ </p><p>“I would offer to help you to your feet, but, er.“ Sorkhatu eyed him. “You appear to be nearly as tall as I am standing while sitting...“</p><p>It was true. Even standing up, Sorkhatu would barely be any taller than him right now. Zenos had noticed he was tiny, but as a fox, the true disparity between their heights had not been nearly as apparent. </p><p>“I can stand.“ He pushed himself up to his feet; unfamiliar though his own body felt, he had not forgotten how to use it. Much like the fox body had immediately been at his command, his actualy body obeyed his will without struggle.</p><p>Then his stomach growled. </p><p>Sorkhatu laughed. “Hungry? I'm not surprised. The transformation partly used some of your own energy—no way around that, I'm sorry… come, follow me. Let's see if we can whip something up for you.“ </p><p>They could, with some difficulty. It seemed that Sorkhatu was not a very good cook, a fact that had eluded Zenos while he had eaten naught but raw meat. Still, while the palace cooks had always taken care of all his dietary needs, it wasn't that challenging to fry some eggs. Even if they didn't much look like chicken eggs. Sorkhatu seemed to think they were edible though, so they were probably safe. </p><p>“Thank you,“ Zenos said as they settled down at the table. Words he had not spoken often throughout the course of his life. What he had wanted he had received; who would disobey the crown prince? Why would he thank them for doing their duty?</p><p>“For?“</p><p>“You helped me with no promise of recompense,“ Zenos said. “You did not need to do any of this, and yet, you did it anyroad.“ </p><p>“I told you, I enjoyed it.“ Sorkhatu popped another sporkful of egg into his mouth. “This is good, by the way.“ </p><p>They were just eggs. The palace chefs would have been embarrassed to serve something so basic. It was hardly worth mentioning. Zenos was about to say as much when Sorkhatu continued.</p><p>“It's hardly worth mentioning. But I did learn from it, if knowing that makes you feel better.“ </p><p>Feel better? That wasn't at all what this was about, but then, Zenos couldn't quite tell <i>what</i> it was about either. Instead of answering, he simply finished his eggs in silence. </p><p>“I can refer you to some people I know, to help you with your problems,“ Sorkhatu eventually said. “I would help you myself, but I doubt I'm the right person for it, and people generally don't find living in my home conducive to good mental health...“ </p><p>“Frankly,“ Zenos said, “I am unconvinced it is needed.“</p><p>The old woman's word resurfaced from memory. 'The place where you arrive at shall be the place where you are meant to be,' was what she had said. </p><p>Maybe there had been something to her strange methods, after all. The sensation of small fingers running through his fur yet lingered at the back of his mind.</p><p>“In fact, with your permission, I believe I will stay a little longer...“</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>